


Bloody Aphrodisiac

by havok2cat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Coercion, Daddy Kink, Death Rituals, Fluff and Smut, Genderfluid Stiles Stilinski, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Mage Stiles Stilinski, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Necromancer Stiles Stilinski, Parents Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Runes, Stiles Stilinski Wears Makeup, Stiles Stilinski in Panties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-07-20 11:24:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19991368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havok2cat/pseuds/havok2cat
Summary: Necromancer!Stiles is poisoned and kidnapped by a seductive stranger who coerces him into performing a dark ritual. The man has also kidnapped a small werewolf pack to be the blood sacrifices needed to perform said ritual. Stiles is determined to outsmart his kidnapper and escape with the pack, hopefully leaving behind their abuser in bloody pieces. He's also determined to use his wit and wiles to get a hot alpha boyfriend out of this shit show.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all! This will probably only be a few chapters, weekly updates! Enjoy.

Stiles was a necromancer. It wasn't as glamorous as Hollywood or Lovecraft would have people believe. In fact, it was pretty boring. 

For Stiles, being a necromancer mostly consisted of elaborate funeral rituals performed for the northern California magic community. Not many mages, druids, witches, etc knew much about the burial rites of their ancient magical brethren. Stiles was aware of only one other practicing necromancer in the U.S. 

Even with Stiles having such a rare specialization, he was only called on to practice once or twice a year. More and more, the obscure religious practices were fading out, making way for current fads such as fortune telling, spell crafting and potions. 

The point was that Stiles couldn't make a living on his necromancy rituals but he was in high demand for rune casting. People came from all over the state to snap up his runic stones and some even commissioned him to make house calls. His runes were used for protection, strength of mind and body, wards against possession...anything a client could imagine, Stiles could craft a rune to suit their needs. 

He shared shop space with Lydia in ye olde downtown Beacon Hills. The shop was small, they both lived in the apartment above and the front door was in a back alley but it allowed them a comfortable, if cramped, life. Lydia specialized in contacting the recently deceased and was obsessed with buying and selling rare occult books. They had settled into a nice little niche in the magical community. 

What Stiles didn't tell anyone, was that he voraciously studied advanced necromancy techniques. It was all theoretical and scholarly and Stiles had no intention of practicing the dark blood rituals. Why would he have any reason to actually raise the dead? Or create a blood thrall? But...theoretically, maybe one day…he might need the knowledge. So he studied and didn't tell anyone, even Lydia. 

Which was why now, as Stiles fell to the floor in a drugged slump, Stiles cursed his voracious mind and darker inclinations. 

In his defense, Stiles had never made friends, or boyfriends, easily. Ironically, in the supernatural community, most people who met Stiles judged him immediately. Stiles had assumed in the beginning of his magical learning that people who consumed blood or turned furry and horny under the full moon would have more tolerance for a man in makeup. Stiles had to crush his dreams of easy acceptance under his sexy red heels. 

But Stiles had strength, stubbornness and a fuck you attitude. He amassed what power he could and carved out a niche that made those same judgy assholes bow and scrape to him for help. He only made them beg a little. 

Not everyone looked down on Stiles for being genderfluid. There were plenty of people, like Lydia, who embraced Stiles for his differences and encouraged his self expression. It was just unfortunate that none wanted to eat him out until he cried.

So when a dark haired, dark eyed sex god on a Harley swaggered into the bar and offered to buy Stiles a drink, Stiles had jumped at the chance to have the man's attention. And maybe, after drink three or four, Stiles had started to try to impress the smoldering man.

His makeup was perfect, he had gone for a nice, smokey cat eye tonight and an eye catching red lipstick. He had shaved meticulously and he was assured by his compact mirror that he had scoped out the perfect bar lighting to make his skin glow. 

He was feeling a more masculine attire tonight, at least outwardly, and opted for no wig, styling his own hair. He had chosen pressed black slacks and a silk purple shirt and high top black sneakers, no accessories. He could only hope Sexy Biker would see his purple lace panties tonight. 

It was no secret that Beacon Hills was home to a bustling supernatural community. The nemeton attracted every kind of species to the small town. So Stiles had no qualms about expounding on his impressive runic abilities. After ten minutes of talking about his most interesting house call, all names changed, Stiles could tell the guy, Joe, was losing interest. 

His drunk brain decided to invite the guy back to his little apartment above the shop. Lydia would be out with Allison for date night and surely she wouldn't notice if Stiles pilfered her good bourbon. It was for a good cause after all. This was a once in a lifetime chance for someone like Stiles to seduce a man like Joe, with his motorcycle, leather jacket and bad boy smirk. 

Stiles let Joe maneuver his stumbling ass up the stairs to the apartment and let Joe get Lydia's bourbon from her "secret" hiding place. Joe poured them both a glass as Stiles removed and threw his sneakers back at the front door. Joe rolled his eyes at Stiles' antics but a smile hovered around his plush lips. Stiles got lost in a fantasy of kissing said lips until Joe spoke.

"Nice little place you got here. And, man, damn good bourbon." 

Joe looked up at Stiles through his eyelashes and caressed the side of the glass against his mouth. Stiles gulped and pulled his foggy mind from even more fantasies about that mouth. 

"Right, yeah. I don't drink very often." 

Stiles lifted his glass of bourbon, hand a little shaky, towards his mouth. A small amount sloshed over the edge and down Stiles' shirt. Joe laughed. 

"Liquor hitting you hard, Stiles?"

Still grinning, Joe put two fingers under Stiles' glass and raised it closer to his lips. 

"Don't waste it, beautiful."

Stiles flushed crimson at the pet name and knocked back the full glass. It burned all the way down and Stiles coughed loudly. 

“Oh, man. Mistake!”

His voice was strangled and his eyes watered. This had better not ruin his mascara. Joe laughed again and put his hand over Stiles’. 

“You’re cute. Want another?” 

Stiles shook his head emphatically, really feeling the liquor. He brought his hand up and tried to caress Joe’s bulging bicep under his too tight black shirt. He missed on his first try but landed the second. Joe flexed and grinned. 

“Like that, beautiful? Plenty more muscle where that came from.” 

Stiles blew a raspberry as he laughed and swayed a little in his seat. 

“You’re hot and...funny, yeah, funny.”

Joe put a hand on Stiles’ chest to keep him still and pulled his chair around the small, round dining table closer to Stiles. Their legs brushed and Joe slowly ran his hand up Stiles’ chest to lightly hold his throat. Stiles swallowed nervously, growing more and more dizzy. He felt so hot, sweat pouring down his back. 

Joe leaned in close and ran a thumb, hard, over Stiles’ bottom lip. Stiles was sure it smudged his lipstick and normally he would be furious but now, feeling the alcohol, he licked the thumb, tying to show how dexterous he could be with the muscle. Stiles could feel Joe’s hot breath against his face as he spoke. 

“Back at the bar, you mentioned...necromancy? Tell me about that. That sounds real...sexy.” 

Stiles tried to reel back but Joe tightened the hand at his throat, keeping Stiles in place. 

“I don’t remember saying that. And it’s not really a sexy-”

Stiles was cut off when Joe tightened his hold until it was painful and shook Stiles by the throat. Joe’s other hand reached up and fisted a handful of Stiles’ hair, forcing Stiles’ head back and exposing his throat even more. Stiles’ eyes started to water from the force. 

“Shhh. I know you’re a necromancer so don’t play stupid, beautiful.”

The pet name turned Stiles’ stomach now and he felt impossibly vulnerable in the position Joe had him in. Blackness was starting to creep into Stiles’ vision but everything felt so distant, it was impossible to panic or fight. His body felt so weak and Joe was the only thing holding him upright. A bitter taste was at the back of his mouth and Stiles knew he had been drugged. His eyes began to shut and Joe’s voice came from far away. 

“Damn, I think I gave you too much mandrake. You weren’t supposed to drop off so quick.” 

Joe pushed up from the table and Stiles groaned, slumping to the floor bonelessly. Mandrake was an anesthetic and most magical people were sensitive to the plant. Joe had fucking dosed him and showed too keen an interest in Stiles’ necromancy studies. This wasn’t going to end well. 

Joe came back into view and crouched over Stiles. He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his jacket and snapped them around Stiles’ wrist. Instantly, Stiles felt his magic dampen. Joe reached up and ran a hand through Stiles’ hair, pushing it back from his forehead. 

“Sorry, beautiful. I wanted more information before we left but I suppose that can wait until I get you home. Shhh. Don’t worry, now. Just be good and you won’t get hurt.”  
The last thing Stiles was aware of was being lifted in the air and thrown over Joe’s shoulder. 

***

The first thing Stiles was aware of as his mind swam into consciousness, was the hard surface under his back. He was laid out, spread eagle. He tried to pry his crusty eyes open but it hurt his head and he slammed them shut again. Had he passed out in an alley again? He had swore to Lydia that would never happen again. She was going to be so pissed. His memory was fuzzy, flashes of the bar coming back to him. Right, he had gone out to the Wolf Moon bar last night to get laid. Hadn’t he met someone? It was hard to think.

He tried to raise his hand to rub his face and realized that he couldn’t. He wiggled his whole body, fighting to move and realized he was strapped down. Fuck. Fuck. Stiles moved his head to the side and forced one eye open, yep, restraints. There was a pressure on his jaw and he was horrified to find he was muzzled as well. He was really starting to panic now, he didn’t remember negotiating this. 

Faintly through his rough panting, Stiles heard breathing and soft sobbing. So there were other people here with him. He forced his head to the left again, towards the sounds, and opened his eyes. The movement sent a wave of agony through his head and he felt bile rise in his throat. Just under the tang of bile was mandrake. Stiles cursed as his blurry vision tried to focus. 

He remembered now, Joe from the bar. The details were a blur, Stiles had heard mandrake poisoning caused amnesia, but he remembered Joe and the rush of excitement Stiles had felt leading Joe up to the apartment. After that it was just faint impressions. Hadn’t Joe mentioned necromancy? Stiles prayed to his gods that Joe took him for that and not to sell him into sexual slavery. 

His vision cleared enough to make out three figures near him. They were tied, arms above their heads, to a chain link fence. There were electrical wires attached to all three of them and Stiles followed the wires to see them end at car batteries sustained by generators. The generators made no sound but they vibrated as if they were working. Stiles located sound silencing runes. Was Joe a mage? Or had Joe handed him off to someone else. 

It was hard to concentrate but Sties tried reach out his awareness to check for magic use. Magic users left a distinct signature, like a fingerprint. Maybe this was some kind of prank gone too far. Stiles couldn't send out his magic. There was a wall in his mind, one that only magic suppression could cause. Whoever had him knew what they were doing.  
He concentrated his gaze back on the figures tied up near him. Two men and a woman. Stiles looked at the closest man, who seemed to be passed out, his body jerked periodically from the electricity. His head was lolled forward and Stiles wasn’t at a low enough angle to see his face, only the top of his head. He was wearing only underwear and fucking beautiful. He looked to be about Stiles’ height and had a compact, tight body. Not too muscled but strong. 

Not able to discern much without his magic, Stiles moved his eyes to the next man. This one had been allowed to keep his jeans and his dark skin bore whip like lacerations. This man was taller and built like a fucking tank. His handsome face was turned, staring at Stiles and so was the woman on the far side of him. 

The woman was beautiful in a sultry way, even with her makeup smudged and a deep, openly bleeding laceration across her cheek. She too was only in her underwear and a bra and, like Stiles, had a muzzle on. While the huge man glared at him, she looked at him in desperation. Her long blonde hair spilled forward over her shoulders, dirty and tangled. How long had these people been here, getting electrocuted? Stiles was thankful to have kept all his clothes. 

A soft, pathetic sniffling started up coming from the other side of Stiles and the woman jumped and tried to yell through her muzzle, tears pouring down her face. Stiles moved his head to look to his right and through the darkness he could make out what looked like a wire dog cage. There was movement in the cage and a tiny hand reached out towards Stiles and a soft little feminine voice sounded from the depths. 

“Mama.” 

Stiles tried to yell through his muzzle and jerked his arms again to try to break free. Where the fuck was he? He turned his head back to the three others and the man in the middle flashed neon blue eyes and gritted his teeth. He turned to the woman next to him. 

“It’s ok, Erica. She’s ok, our baby isn’t hurt.” 

Erica moaned around the muzzle again and went limp, closing her eyes. The man next to her looked devastated and pitched his voice to reach the girl in the cage.

“It’s ok, Ivy. Mama and Papa are right here. You’re ok.”

The man strained against his restraints and growled soft and low to the unconscious man.

“Dammit, Peter, wake up.” 

Peter came awake slowly, turning his head back and forth and finally lifting his face up. From his profile, Stiles could make out his handsome face, strong jaw, thin lips, high forehead. Peter turned his head to look at the man next to him. 

“Boyd, fuck, I passed out again. This current is wearing me down.”

Boyd grunted and pointed to Stiles with his chin. 

“We got a roommate.” 

Peter looked at Stiles with piercing blue eyes and Stiles felt his heart skip a beat. This man had a commanding presence that made Stiles want to fall to his knees...in a better situation, of course. Peter raised one regal eyebrow and smirked.

“Well, add one more thing to the list of reasons to kill this asshole; messing up this pretty boy’s makeup. Or, wait, masculine pronouns?” 

Stiles blinked in slight shock at the consideration and slowly nodded his head. 

“Lovely.”

A whimper sounded again from the cage and Peter sucked in a breath, flashing red eyes. Shit, an alpha werewolf. Was this the whole pack? Was Joe a hunter? Stiles had heard rumors of supernaturals being chained and forced to serve hunters. A necromancer would be a rare prize for such a person, especially if it was known how extensive Stiles’ knowledge was. 

Peter started to reassure the girl in the cage and Stiles looked around a bit more, his head feeling a bit better. The effects of mandrake were slow to wear off but left no lasting damage if rationed appropriately. Although it was possible to overdose a mage, it seemed Joe knew what he was doing. 

Between the mandrake root and the suppressing cuffs, Stiles was helpless laying on what appeared to be an elevated slab. Stiles felt a creeping sickness as he recognized the signs of a sacrificial altar. He cast his eyes around the building around him. There were towering stacks of wooden shipping containers everywhere, maze-like and Stiles couldn’t see any obvious exits. The building appeared to be some type of warehouse with a metal staircase directly across from the group that led to a balcony. Pretty on brand for a hunter antagonist. Now where was the villain of this piece? 

A large sliding door banged open on the balcony and a figure entered the warehouse, fluorescent light streaming in behind him, hiding his face. He shut the door behind him, engaging a lever lock and leaned over the banister, resting his weight on his arms. Stiles frowned, recognizing Joe. So the man hadn’t passed Stiles off to another party. Whatever he wanted, it could be personal. 

The tree werewolves growled and Boyd snapped his teeth at Joe. Joe only laughed and started down the stairs, navigating the maze of shipping containers, weaving in and out of sight. He finally entered their little clearing and Peter tried to lunge forward, straining uselessly to reach Joe. Joe grinned and walked up to the battery attached to Peter. He turned some dials and Peter’s growl turned into a pained moan. Peter bit his lip but continued jerking. 

“Now, now, dog. Haven’t you learned by now? I’m in charge, not you.”

He messed with knobs again and Peter relaxed against his restraints, panting. Joe approached Peter and patted his cheek a little too hard. 

“Don’t you worry. I’m here for the beauty.”

Boyd growled and Erica snapped her head up in alarm. Joe noticed and laughed. 

“Oh, sorry, our new beautiful guest.” 

Joe gave Erica a wink and turned to Stiles. He refused to show his fear and stayed completely still, glaring at Joe as he came up to Stiles. Joe waved a hand to encompass Stiles restrained form. 

“Sorry about all this, Stiles, but I am a man in need of your expertise. How about you answer some questions for me?” 

Stiles huffed behind the muzzle and rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, right! Silly me. I had to be sure those magic suppressing cuffs worked. We wouldn’t want you casting spells or whatever abominations do.” 

Ok, fact number one, this asshole was anti werewolf and anti mage. That really didn’t bode well for convincing this idiot to let him go. Joe reached out and removed the muzzle. Stiles worked his sore jaw and licked dry lips, tasting lipstick. He grinned sharply at Joe.

“You didn’t happen to grab my purse when you drugged and kidnapped me, did you? I think my face needs a touch up.”

Joe leaned forward to loom over Stiles’ prostrate form, a dark look in his brown eyes. 

“Nope. But don’t worry, beautiful, you look so good like this. Like you got ruined.” 

Joe reached out a hand to touch Stiles’ face and in his panic, Stiles snapped his teeth at it. Joe jerked back and Stiles could hear one of the wolves huff out a surprised laugh. Joe’s face curled into a snarl and he raised his hand as if to strike Stiles but a growl behind him made him pause. He cast a look over his shoulder. 

“Getting attached already, dog? Tsk, tsk. But you do make a good point. I can’t go smacking him around too much. I need that pretty mouth to work.”

Stiles let out a disgusted noise. Joe turned back to him and laid a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, an amused smile on his face. 

“Not like that. Just answer some questions for me. You practice necromancy?”

Stiles pursed his lips and cast his gaze over Joe’s shoulder, silent. He could see all three werewolves were looking at him and Peter had an intrigued expression. The hand on  
Stiles’ shoulder tightened and Joe leaned down to breath in Stiles’ face.

“Let me rephrase that. I know you’re a necromancer, doing your stupid little funeral rights, worshipping dead gods. But there’s a rumor going around that you can do the real dark shit.” 

Joe ran his hand down the middle of Stiles’ chest, stopping to splay his big hand over Stiles’ rib cage. Stiles tensed every muscle he could, frustrated with his helplessness. He continued ignoring Joe. 

“You forget, Stiles. I’ve been to your apartment. Remember, you invited me there. All hot and ready to get fucked, like a good slut.” 

Stiles twisted his body violently, trying to dislodge Joe’s hand. He felt sick. Was this his fault? Were there red flags he missed? Was he so desperate for attention that he had ignored them? No, this guy was just a disgusting creep.

“I’m going to rip your arm off, asshole.”

Peter’s voice was deep and his eyes were red. Joe removed his hand from Stiles to pace over to Peter. He landed a heavy punch to Peter’s gut. Peter didn’t make a noise but he winced and clenched his jaw. Joe held up the muzzle he had taken from Stiles. 

“Shut up, dog. Don’t make me muzzle you like I did your little bitch.” 

Peter glared, furious, but didn’t push further. Stiles was surprised he had stuck up for Stiles at all. Shouldn’t he be more worried about his pack, not some lone mage? Joe smirked, triumphant, and turned his attention back to Stiles. 

“Now, where was I? Ah, yes, I was just about to inform you that I’ve been following you for weeks. I suggest you cooperate. Or, should I pay your little red headed roommate a visit? Hmm? I’m sure she could answer me…” 

Stiles grit his teeth. 

“Fine! I do have extensive knowledge of necromancy, ok? What the fuck do you want from me?”

How had he missed this guy following him? Joe wasn’t exactly easy to overlook. Did he have invisibility runes? Oh gods, what if he was a customer of Stiles’? Had Stiles been unknowingly contributing to this psycho’s plans? There was no way to recognize the maker of the runes without his magic. 

“I want you to perform a ritual for me, beautiful. Duh.”

Stiles scoffed as derisively as he could. 

“No! All I have is theoretical knowledge, I’ve never performed anything dark. No way, man. I just do funerals.” 

Joe nodded seriously, tapping his chin with a finger. 

“I see. Yes, of course.”

Then Joe walked past Stiles and to the cage with the little girl. Ivy, Boyd had called her. Ivy, who had been sitting at the front of the cage, face pressed tight against the bars, scrambled back with a loud yelp as Joe wrenched the door open. He reached inside and Stiles could hear the little girl snarling and snapping, desperate to keep Joe from touching her. 

The three werewolves were going crazy, growling and snapping, Peter and Boyd yelling obscenities. Joe eventually pulled Ivy out roughly by her curly hair. She was crying and screaming for her parents and her alpha. Joe’s face was amused and Stiles felt a cold chill take over his body. 

Joe dragged Ivy to stand right by the altar, her tear streaked face looking into Stiles’, clutching at the hand in her hair. Joe’s other hand reached into his back pocket and produced a switchblade. He flicked it open and held it to the girl’s throat. She whimpered. 

“This has seemed to sufficiently motivate the mutts, so maybe it will work for you too. You fucking do what I say, abomination, or I cut her throat. Can you live with her death on your hands?”

Stiles swallowed thickly and quickly nodded his head. 

“Ok, ok, man, whatever you want.” 

Joe nodded and removed the blade from Ivy’s neck. He kept his hand fisted in her hair and dragged a folding chair and banged it down next to the altar. He forced Ivy to sit down and picked up some rope from the ground. He started tying her to the chair. 

“Not soaked in wolfsbane but I’m sure this little puppy will behave, huh?” 

Ivy nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on the three wolves. 

“Good girl. Now, I’m gonna keep her right here, Stiles, so you remember your promise. One wrong move and she gets hurt. And then I’m gonna go out and bring back Lydia.” 

Stiles jolted at Lydia’s name. He clenched his fists around the restraints and nodded. Joe clapped his hands together, looking satisfied. 

“Good, now here’s the plan. I’m going to bring in some books for the ritual you’ll be doing. You aren’t going to fucking argue with me, abomination. We are going to have a civilized conversation about what you need to perform said ritual. Then, if everyone has been good little boys and girls, I’ll bring in some food and water.” 

Joe turned to leave but paused picking up the muzzle. He placed it back on Stiles. 

“Just in case.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos! One more chapter after this one!

The single light in their little cleared area in the warehouse swung violently back and forth. Stiles closed his eyes to process all that had happened as Boyd and Peter softly reassured Ivy. Their voices were easy to block out, low murmurs that washed over him. The air in the warehouse was stale and cold. The autumn air seeped into his muscles, making them ache. He could tell Joe had been rough in handling him while transporting his unconscious body to where ever the hell they were. 

He wished fervently that Joe hadn’t replaced the muzzle. Maybe the werewolves knew where they were being held. Then again, with the wounds the adults had sustained, they were most likely a bit useless. Stiles felt his resolve solidify, a hot, ballooning determination filled his breast. It was going to be up to him to get out of this fucked up place, to incapacitate Joe in some way. With his eyes still closed, he prayed to his ancient gods to watch and guide him. It probably wouldn’t matter, praying to mostly forgotten gods, but it was comforting. 

Stiles was resolved to play into whatever plan Joe had concocted. If he presented himself as desperate to live, no matter the cost, perhaps Joe would let down his guard. Joe was already disgustingly self assured. Kidnapping a pack with a child? 

Stiles could barely fathom the arrogance it took for Joe to think he was getting away with this. One man holding five people captive, five supernatural people? It was likely that Joe was working alone. Advanced necromancy was misunderstood and feared by most, especially those prejudiced against the supernatural. Joe would be killed faster than he could recruit. 

How had he nabbed the whole pack at once? Where were they from? Gods, Stiles had so many questions and he was unable to ask any of them. That left him on his own with forming an initial plan and he had a feeling his acting would not go over well with the pack. 

Stiles was going to hold his cards close to his chest and let Joe see only what Joe wanted to see. Stiles had little to no offensive abilities and if Joe had done his research, he would know that. Stiles could play into that, Joe would let down his guard and hopefully die for his audacity. Hopefully the sexy alpha didn’t rip his throat out before Joe left them alone sans muzzles. 

A soft caress on Stiles’ face, brushing his hair from his forehead, brought him out of his head and he opened his eyes. Ivy was close enough to reach out and touch him. Her little hand was cold and her face was tear streaked. Her whole body was shaking. He turned his face into her gentle hand and she gave him a tremulous smile. She was on the same side as the rest of the wolves and he looked over her shoulder to meet Peter’s eyes. Peter looked away, furious, clenching his jaw and pulling on his ties.

“I’m going to skin that asshole alive! Do you know what ritual he was speaking of? Did he mention it before he took you?”

Stiles gave Peter his best ‘uh, dude, i cant speak’ face. Peter grimaced. 

“Ivy, sweetie, can you remove his muzzle?” 

“Yes, alpha.”

Stiles made a protesting sound as Ivy reached out and fumbled for the leather closing straps. She pulled it off and Stiles licked his dry lips. 

“She shouldn’t remove it! Joe will hurt her.”

Peter rolled his eyes. 

“We can hear him coming, Stiles. She’ll put it back on well before he reaches this room.”

“Oh, right, cool. Thanks, Ivy.”

She smiled a little more steadily and held the muzzle in her lap, looking down at it. Peter cleared his throat, looking at Stiles expectantly. 

“Right, the ritual. There isn’t much known about dark necromancy. I’ve spent ten years of my magical career researching and getting my hands on any book I can. My partner, Lydia, deals in obscure occult books. Between the two of us, we have amassed a lot of information.”

Although Lydia had no idea that Stiles was interested in advanced necromancy specifically. Most books addressing it were dedicated to many different dark magic specializations. 

“Anyway, it’s mostly sacrificial magic. Blood given to the death gods, lives given. The more powerful the sacrifice…” 

Stiles trailed off as a dawning horror overtook him. Peter finished his sentence.

“The more powerful the ritual becomes. He means to use us as sacrifices.”

Stiles nodded, numb and heard Boyd curse and Erica moan behind her muzzle. She was gazing at her daughter, distraught. Ivy said nothing but was clearly distressed by her parents’ reaction. Peter was calm, looking deep in thought. 

“You said not much is known about dark ritual necromancy. How likely is it that this idiot got his hands on an accurate tome?”

Stiles blew out a deep breath, moving his neck around, trying to loosen the cramped muscles. 

“I don’t know. I, well, we didn’t talk much before he drugged me. And after he slipped me mandrake root, it gets all fuzzy. He definitely didn’t mention ritual sacrifice while I was throwing myself at him in the bar.”

Stiles voice was bitter and a dark self loathing overtook him. He was smarter than this, dammit. How could he let this happen? 

“-les, Stiles!”

Peter’s voice jolted him out of his self deprecating thoughts. Peter eyes blazed red. 

“Listen to me, Stiles. None of this is your fault. You can’t predict the actions of strangers. He showed you a false face and you are not to blame for his sins. Blame him, not yourself.” 

Peter spoke with a fierce conviction and Stiles allowed himself to relax. Peter was right. 

“I know. I just feel stupid.”

“You’re here now, Stiles. It’s not ideal but you seem like a person of great intelligence and sharp wit. You will not be defeated by that idiot.”

Stiles breathed deep, looking into Peter’s red eyes. Every line in Peter’s body was taut, focused on Stiles. Stiles let out a shaky laugh. 

“Wow, you’re a good alpha.” 

Erica raised her head, looking proud and Boyd grunted. 

“Damn straight.” 

Peter gave a sharp toothed grin and Ivy giggled. 

“I do try.”

The adult werewolves tensed and Peter directed Ivy to place the muzzle back on Stiles. Joe threw open the door on the balcony and bounced down the stairs. He had a single book in one hand and as he got closer, Stiles could see his other hand held a dagger. He threw both items down onto the table, seemingly uncaring about damaging them. Definitely not a scholar if he could treat a rare book so roughly. Joe drew a gun from the waistband on his back and pointed it at Stiles. 

“Ok, puppy, I’m going to untie you and then you are going to let loose the abomination.”

He let Ivy loose from her restraints and motioned her to begin untying Stiles, keeping the gun on him and a tight hand on Ivy’s shoulder. 

“These bullets are made especially for your kind, beautiful.”

Once his hands were loose, Stiles reached up slowly to remove the muzzle. Joe didn’t seem to mind its absence. He worked his jaw and rolled his shoulders. 

“Normal bullets work just fine, man. What’s so special about those?” 

Joe grinned, still holding onto Ivy as she worked the tight knots holding his ankles. She winced at his hold and Stiles wanted to reach out and pull her away from him. 

“These bullets are infused with valerian, it affects your kind like wolfsbane does mutts.”

Joe’s satisfied smile faded as Peter let out a disparaging laugh and Stiles squinted in confusion. 

“That’s not how that works...what kind of snake oil selling mother fucker duped you?”

Joe’s response should have been predictable but it still shocked Stiles to be backhanded by the hand holding the gun. It hurt like a bitch and Stiles prodded the area, feeling a gash and seeing blood and mascara on his fingers. His head rang. 

Joe had a nasty snarl on his face and he threw Ivy from him, she cried out, landing hard on her side on the floor. Peter and the others were snarling and growling. Joe jerked Stiles to sit up on the altar with a hand bunched in his shirt and dragged him to the edge, sidling up between Stiles’ knees. He let go of Stiles’ shirt and grabbed him by the neck, choking him. Stiles gurgled and tried to fight but Joe was too strong. Joe leaned close, his hot breath on Stiles’ face. 

“Don’t fucking disrespect me, abomination. If I didn’t need you for this ritual, I’d have your head for that sass.”

The hand eased up on his neck and Stiles frowned, furious at the manhandling, and opened his mouth to retort. He was stopped by Peter saying his name softly, in warning. Stiles deflated and looked down, submitting to Joe. 

Peter was right, Joe was clearly unstable and Stiles had already resolved to follow Joe’s lead for now. Valerian had no effect on any supernatural creature. That meant that wherever Joe was getting his information was fallible and maybe Joe was just gullible enough to manipulate. It was best to wait and observe. Joe let out a disgusted noise and stepped back. 

“Pick up that damn book and read the pages I have marked. That’s the ritual I require of you. No more fucking sass, got it?”

Stiles nodded meekly and eased his legs to stand. He leaned on the altar and waited for the pins and needles feeling to leave him before slowly making his way around the altar to the table and book on the other side. As he passed Peter, they made eye contact and Peter gave a nod of encouragement. Stiles wasn’t alone in this, he had these people counting on him. Stiles straightened his shoulders and picked up the book, he wasn’t going to let them down. 

The book wasn’t very old which was a red flag for Stiles. Dark necromancy was a dwindling art and no new books had been published in the last 175 years. This book looked new and Stiles flipped open the cover, looking for a publishing date. Stiles bit his lip to prevent himself from shouting in triumph, the publishing date was five years ago. Stiles flipped the book shut again, looking at the cover for an author. No fucking author. Stiles wanted to laugh hysterically. He recognized the book, he’d come across one very similar in his studies. It was fake, mass produced by humans. It was gods damn fictional and this idiot didn’t know. 

“Where did you get this tome?”

Joe leaned a hip on the table beside Stiles and watched Ivy crawl over to Erica. They both watched her reach up and hug her mother’s leg. Erica shuddered at the contact and Boyd started whispering to them both. Peter kept his unwavering attention on Joe and Stiles. Joe focussed on Stiles and picked up the dagger, unsheathing it and twirling it with precision. 

“My sources will stay confidential. Now read the fucking pages I marked.”

Stiles suppressed a huff and opened the book and started reading. It was an old god summoning spell, one that called upon a made up ancient death god to possess a mortal body. Again, completely fictional but Stiles was impressed by the big official sounding words. 

“Umm…”

Joe leaned in close, reading the book over Stiles’ shoulder. 

“Impressive, right? With an ancient god under my influence, I can have anything I want.”

Stiles hummed and ran a finger down the ingredient list. 

“And what is it that you desire with all this ancient power?”

He forced himself to meet Joe’s calculating gaze. Joe tilted his head to the side and brought the sharp dagger to rest under Stiles’ chin. He felt a prick as it dug into his flesh and a trickle as the blood ran down his throat. Joe watched the blood disappear below his shirt with greedy eyes.

“I desire freedom. Freedom from freaks like you, like them.” 

Joe indicated the werewolves. 

“I will reshape the world how it should be, with Orino by my side.”

Stiles looked back at the fake ritual. Orino was the “god” to be summoned. This guy was completely delusional. 

“I’ll do this if you let me go.” 

Joe raised an eyebrow, amused. 

“Did you not hear me? I’m killing all supernatural scum. That includes you, beautiful.”

“With the power this ritual gives you, I would have no hope of escaping your wrath. Just let me say goodbye to my loved ones.”

Joe looked angry and Stiles braced himself for another hit but Joe’s face suddenly smoothed out. He grasped Stiles’ chin and smiled crookedly. 

“You’re right, of course and if it buys your cooperation, I’ll let you see your family before I slaughter them. What is one insignificant abomination to me? Now, say thank you.”

The hand on Stiles’ chin tightened. Stiles swallowed and opened his mouth but was cut off by Peter. 

“He’s lying, Stiles. His heartbeat-”

Stiles interrupted. 

“Shut up, dog! You think I give a shit about you and your fucking pack? I’m doing this damn ritual and then I’m going home. You all can rot!”

His heart was beating so fast and Stiles prayed Peter would hear the lie. Peter was fucking enraged, his red eyes flashing, his fangs bared. It made his skin crawl, saying those things. Either Peter was an excellent actor or he didn’t detect a lie because he spit at Stiles and strained his muscles to leap out of his restraints. The show of rage had to be painful. 

Joe smirked at the display and turned the dials on the battery attached to Peter, pumping volts into the alpha until he calmed, exhausted. Joe mocked him with glee. 

“Now tell me, was that a lie?” 

Peter’s lips were bloody. Had he bitten his tongue?

“No, it’s not a lie. And I’m going to fucking kill you, mage.”

Peter glared at Stiles. The rest of the pack was silent but Stiles could feel their hatred. Stiles turned from them and faced Joe, a plan forming. 

“I think the alpha would make the best vessel for Orino. I’m an accomplished runemaster. I can drain the life essence from the rest of the pack and channel it into the alpha. 

The more strength he possesses, the more stable his body will be for the death god.”

Most of it was bullshit. There were some possession rituals that existed but they worked best with weak willed vessels. Obviously, Joe was eating up the nonsense, nodding sagely. 

“Yes, I’m familiar with your rune work. You’re world famous, beautiful. I knew you were perfect for this.” 

“Considering there is no one else on the west coast with my knowledge, I’m the only one for this.”

Joe became still and fixed a fierce gaze on Stiles. Stiles raised his hands in surrender. 

“Right, no sass, sorry. I’ll need my cuffs removed. I can’t work runes without my magic. The runes are essential. A ritual like this would normally take months. I can make it take hours.” 

Joe pulled out the key to the cuffs from his pocket and hesitated, his hands hovering above Stiles’ wrists. Stiles met his gaze head on, trying to look confidant, guileless. 

“You’ve been following me, right? You know I don’t have offensive magic and you’re too strong physically for me to fight.”

It worked, the cuffs fell away and Stiles gasped as his magic rushed out, greedily cataloguing the environment. Stiles felt whole again.  
There was a dark aura around the pack and Stiles winced. Yeah, they weren’t pretending to want him dead. Great, now he had to fight on two fronts unless he could convince them he was lying to Joe. Trying to ingratiate himself with the idiot, get his guard down. 

“I’ll need some things for the runes, nothing complicated.”

“Ok, beautiful. Give me a list and I’ll return with them. And since you’ve behaved so well, I’ll bring you some food too.”

Joe moved to leave.

“And food for them, too.”

Joe gave him a confused look. Stiles raised his chin. 

“Sacrifices must be kept strong. We wouldn’t want to offer Orino subpar fare.” 

Joe grunted and left. 

***

The first thing Stiles did was send out his magic, looking for recording devices. He found none and shook his head in disbelief. This guy was the worst villain. How the fuck had he controlled Peter’s pack to get them here? His arrogance was unfathomable and Stiles was determined to see it be his downfall. 

Stiles then sent his magic out further, probing at the building, looking for traps and spells. The batteries pumping a steady electrical charge into the werewolves, keeping them immobilized, were protected from tampering by a rune Stiles didn’t recognize. The runes wouldn’t respond to his magic. 

His magic sensed a powerful containment spell surrounding the warehouse. He didn’t recognize the signature of the spell caster, meaning that it wouldn’t respond to him. It would keep the pack and him inside the building and only a powerful force of physical strength could dispel it.

Stiles whirled around, ignoring the death glares and rushed up to Peter. He wanted to fall at his feet and beg forgiveness but he pasted on a cocky smile. He brought his hand up to touch Peter’s chest but jerked it back at Peter’s growl. He forced a laugh. 

“Don’t worry, Daddy, you’ll be gone soon.”

“You pathetic little idiot. How dare you-”

Stiles groaned in frustration. He reached up to cup Peter’s face earning a bite to the thumb. 

“Ow, fuck, dude! What I meant was that that bitch, Joe, is going to die and we are all getting out of here.” 

Peter didn’t look convinced. Stiles walked down the line of wolves and stopped in front of Erica, removing her muzzle and throwing it as far across the warehouse as possible.  
She gave a sigh and ignored Stiles, focusing on talking to Ivy. Ivy seemed delighted. Boyd avoided his eyes and Stiles paced back to stand in front of Peter. 

“Listen, Alpha. I was just going along with that idiot. You were right, he has no idea what he’s doing.”

Stiles holds up the book. 

“This stupid book is fake. Written by humans, completely fictional. I’d be laughing my ass off if we weren’t here with the crazy asshole. There is no death god Orino and this ritual won’t lead to possession. I was lying, Peter. Can’t you tell?”

Stiles voice grew more and more desperate. He wanted the pack on his side, he didn’t want to be in this alone. 

“Peter, please, I’m going to get you and your pack out of here, I promise.” 

Peter’s face was impassive and the rest of the pack looked to their alpha silently. Slowly, a sly grin overtook Peter’s face and he ran a hot gaze over Stiles’ body.

“Daddy, huh?” 

Stiles’ face flushed and he hit Peter lightly with the book. 

“Shut up, not in front of the child.”

“You started it, baby boy.”

Erica cackled and Boyd gave them an amused look. Ivy, to Stiles’ relief, just looked confused. Peter’s face sobered. 

“What’s the plan?”

Stiles cleared his throat, straightening his shirt. He found a rip in the shoulder and worried at it with his fingers. 

“I’m going to cover all of you in siphoning runes, all the pack power will be in you. It’s temporary, that much power will burn the runes off your body. It will give you an hour to get us out of here.”

Stiles began to pace back and forth in front of the pack. 

“My magic doesn’t detect any recording devices so Joe can’t hear us. He’s somehow found a mage to cast a powerful containment spell on the building. Peter, you need to use your increased power to smash it. Of course, I’m assuming you’ll have to go through Joe to do so.”

Peter gave a feral grin. 

“With pleasure.”

Stiles paced away from them and looked back, meeting their eyes one at a time. 

“I mean this, I’m getting us out of here.”

Joe came back with food and water before they could talk more. Stiles picked up the book and pretended to study it. The pack went back to glaring poisonously. Joe didn’t seem to sense anything was amiss. He sat the food on the table, winked at Stiles and reached out to roughly grab Ivy’s elbow, jerking her towards the cage. Stiles reached for Ivy but Joe pushed him away. Erica howled. 

“Don’t touch my daughter, you creep. Let her go!”

“Whoa, whoa! Hey, man, don’t put her back. I could use an extra set of hands!”

Joe laughed darkly at Stiles and let go of Ivy. She ran back to her mother, hiding her face in Erica’s side, whimpering. 

“Whatever. Just feed these dogs and get started. I want this done by morning or I start removing the puppy's limbs, got it?”

He left again, promising to return shortly to check on Stiles’ progress. Stiles sighed in relief at not being watched. He divided the food and water up, setting aside a larger portion for Peter despite his protests. Erica cut him off. 

“You need it more than we do, Alpha. It’s up to you to hulk smash us out of here. Get us home, Peter.”

Peter gave in with a grumble and Erica grinned at Stiles, triumphant. 

“He’s a good alpha, Stiles. Very protective, great with Ivy. All kids, really. We have a fantastic den, deep in the woods, nice location-”

Peter interrupted, seemingly embarrassed.

“Ok, Erica, enough.”

Erica scoffed, throwing Stiles a wink. Stiles grinned back at her. 

“Sounds like you’re writing his online dating profile. Do you talk him up to every sexy mage or am I special?” 

Peter rolled his eyes and Boyd looked back and forth at their banter. Erica hummed. 

“Listen, I’ve been trying to set him up for years, he’s just too picky. I’ve never seen him go gaga over someone so fast. And we happen to lack an emissary, so…”

“Enough, Erica! Is this really the time and place?” 

Stiles’ grin melted away at the reminder of their reality. Erica looked guiltily at Peter. 

“Right, sorry, Peter. Anyway, thank you, Stiles. You’ve been a peach.” 

Stiles sat Ivy down at the folding table to eat and had to hand feed the rest of the pack. Peter was the last one to eat and Stiles tried not to blush as he spooned food into Peter’s mouth. Peter didn’t help by hamming it up, making a performance out of accepting the utensil into his mouth. Using his tongue too much and making Stiles feel hot all over. 

“I thought you said this wasn’t the time?” 

Peter shrugged and licked sauce from his lips.

“I don’t know what you mean, baby boy. I’m just eating normally.”

Stiles did blush at the pet name and whispered frantically. 

“Are you going to use my kinks against me forever? It was one little slip.”

Peter leaned closer and rubbed the rough hair of his beard against Stiles’ neck, scenting him. Stiles’ eyes slammed shut and he inhaled the scent of blood and sweat from Peter. 

“Kinks as in, plural?” 

Stiles placed his hand against Peter’s naked chest and leaned back, taking in the dark, possessive look on his face. 

“You’re incorrigible. Wait until we’re out of here, Casanova.” 

Peter opened his mouth to respond but seemed to reconsider, glancing at Ivy. He pursed his lips in a pout and Stiles gave a breathy laugh at his juvenile expression.

“Fine, we’ll discuss it later, over dinner.”

It wasn’t a question and Stiles raised one eyebrow, charmed at his authoritative tone. He didn’t argue and turned to begin setting up for his runes. It would take a few hours to cover Peter in runes. Hopefully Stiles would be tucked into bed by morning and gods willing that bed would belong to Peter.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first finished fic! Yay!   
> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos and please enjoy! A lot of love went into this. *Blows kiss*

Setting up the runes took a good hour for Stiles. He wanted to make sure he didn’t fuck this up. Ivy sat next to him, swinging her feet and asking endless questions as he worked. He answered all of her questions patiently and was secretly glad for the distraction she brought to him. She was a cute kid, very charming and articulate. She was also quite talkative without the influence of Joe and something interesting to distract her. 

Mostly, she went on and on about her pack. How much she loved her parents and her alpha, how much fun they all had together everyday, how Peter was a good cook, how Peter took such good care of the pack, how Peter was lonely...Wait. Stiles turned to look at the adult werewolves behind him, eyebrows arching.

“Your whole pack seems determined to set us up, Peter.”

Peter looked half amused and half mortified. 

“Ivy, sweetie, you don’t have to say nice things about me to Stiles. I’m sure he’s smart enough to see my immense worth as a mate and alpha all on his own.” 

Stiles sputtered, flushing crimson. Erica laughed loudly and Boyd’s shoulders shook from suppressed laughter. 

“Mate? We haven’t even had that dinner yet, Peter!”

Peter attempted to shrug his shoulders but the restraints stopped him. He winced and Stiles echoed the gesture in sympathy. Stiles walked over to him, hands fluttering. Peter smirked. 

“I can tell you’re special, Stiles, and not just for your unique capabilities. What you are attempting to do, fool that idiot, save my pack...not many people would put themselves in a position of danger to save strangers.”

Stiles dipped his head, embarrassed and charmed by Peter’s words. 

“It’s my fault to begin with. I’m the one he wants, your pack is just unfortunate collateral. How did you end up on Joe’s radar, anyway?” 

Erica let out a deep growl and curled her lip. 

“That asshole followed Ivy and I to the park on Thursday. By the time I noticed how weird he was acting, he had his perverted little hands on Ivy. I went for him and he shot me, I went down fast, some kind of tranq.”

Boyd was tense next to her but stayed silent. Ivy came up behind Stiles and hurled herself at Erica, hugging her mother’s middle tightly. 

“It was scary! Mama took so long to wake up.”

Peter took over after a moment of horrified silence. 

“Thursdays are pack dinner and they were late getting back. Boyd and I went to the park and it was obvious there had been a struggle. It was impossible to track them, he had used a vehicle to move them. When we finally doubled back to our den, there was a helpful little ransom note waiting for us.” 

Stiles reached out and touched two fingertips to Peter’s cheek, trying to comfort him. Peter relaxed his tensed jaw at the gesture and his face softened. He gave Stiles a small fond smile that made Stiles’ knees feel weak. Erica cooed at them and Stiles jerked his hand away, sending her a glare. Peter grinned and Boyd chuckled. 

“I knew it was a trap but I couldn’t just leave Erica and Ivy to their fate. Boyd and I went in knowing the situation wasn’t ideal but we had to try.” 

Stiles hummed. 

“So this is your whole pack?”

The silence that followed was heavy and awkward. Erica shifted restlessly, Boyd curled his lip and rolled his eyes. Peter cleared his throat but hesitated to answer. 

“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that-”

“No, it’s ok. We were a part of a bigger pack three years ago. My family’s pack, actually. The Hale Pack.”

Peter paused, eyeing Stiles from the corner of his eye cautiously. Stiles couldn’t hide his shock. 

“Holy crap! The Hale Pack is legendary. You were a part of them? Wait, are you a Hale?”

“Yes, Peter Hale. I was the enforcer, the left hand of my sister and Alpha, Talia. Even growing up in the pack, it never felt right to me. It was far from harmonious and I was treated like a pariah. When Erica and Boyd joined us, pregnant with Ivy, they were treated much the same.”

Stiles scrunched his face in confusion, looking between them. Erica shook her head, lost in thought. 

“Talia wasn’t a bad alpha but we didn’t agree with her pack politics. She was a hardcore traditionalist and taking in two bitten werewolves was very controversial. We were the only bitten in the whole pack, all the rest were born.” 

Peter bit his lip. 

“It wasn’t just her pack politics that were traditionalist, she never approved of my sexuality. Anything not strictly heterosexual and cisgendered was considered alien and suspect. It was a constant irritant to her and the rest of the pack that I didn’t conform to their ideals, being pansexual.” 

Stiles huffed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I understand that, Peter. I thought coming out in the supernatural world would be easier than the human one but people are close minded everywhere. It hasn’t been a cakewalk for me. My pronouns change day to day depending on how I feel. People act like I’m asking them to drown puppies when I want to go by she/her or they/them.” 

Peter smiled that tender smile. Stiles was starting to suspect it was for him alone. It made him feel a little light headed, that smile.

“You’re safe with us, Stiles. Always.”

Boyd and Erica agreed loudly. Stiles smiled, touched by their enthusiasm. Boyd spoke next, his deep rumbling voice quiet. 

“It got to a breaking point after Ivy was born. The pack kept going on and on about pack purity and debating on weather Ivy was truly a ‘born’ wolf. They even started throwing around words like ‘blood purity’. We were so scared and Peter was there for us. Protecting us and trying to talk reasonably with Talia.”

Peter and Boyd shared a look of solidarity and Stiles was floored by the connection these werewolves had together. He had never really been this close to observe a pack interact. Stiles was suddenly very envious. He had friends, Lydia and Allison, but he had never had this. A deep, dependable, unconditional bond to other people. It was fascinating to see so close. 

“I was looking for a way out for months when the answer fell in my lap, a rogue alpha in Hale territory. Talia dispatched me, as enforcer, to deal with the alpha. They were crazed, feral when I found the alpha. It was easy to take them down, even easier to absorb the alpha spark. I went back quietly, told Talia where she could shove her blood purity bullshit and left with these three.”

Peter grinned and Stiles couldn’t help but return it. 

“Of course, it wasn’t easy at first. It took two years to obtain a den far enough away from Hale territory for us to not be harassed. It was a tough time, moving constantly, fighting every inch but I was determined to set down permanent roots before Ivy was old enough for school. Now, we have stability and...room to grow.”

Erica and Boyd laughed as Peter gave Stiles a shit eating grin. Stiles felt shell shocked. 

“Are you really bringing up me joining your pack? You haven’t even known me twenty- four hours.”

Stiles shook his head and turned, gathering up his DIY body paint to draw runes on the pack’s skin. He lifted up the brush and mimed a few brush strokes. 

“I should, uh, start on the runes. I’m going to use this paint on your skin, it won’t hurt or anything. It’ll feel funny once I activate them but hopefully, if I do this right, which I will, you’ll be so hopped up on magical steroids, you won’t feel them. But first, I’ll draw the runes on Boyd and Erica to channel their...energy aura, you could call it, to Peter. These won’t hurt but you will probably feel exhausted and hungry. Nothing a big breakfast and a good night’s sleep won’t fix.”

Stiles stroked his chin with his fingers and squinted at the ceiling. 

“I’m thinking increased strength, stamina, vision, smell, hearing, the works. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve never done this and it could feel...intense. It’s definitely a ‘cross your fingers and hope Peter doesn’t go crazy with power’ kind of situation.”

Stiles gave them a manic grin and tried to look like he wasn’t super nervous. Peter met his nervous energy with complete calm. 

“I trust you, Stiles.”

Stiles blew out a breath. 

“Again, thank you, but you don’t even know me and your lives are, literally, in my hands.”

“I’m a very intuitive person, Stiles. Good at reading people. I know you will get us out of here and I know that once I have lured you back to my den, you are never going to want to leave.”

Stiles gaped at Peter, impressed and slightly intimidated by his confidence. 

“You can’t be right all the time, Peter.”

Erica scoffed. 

“Oh, he’s not.”

Peter curled his lip in a snarl and raised his head to look down at them.

“I’m never wrong about people.”

Stiles waved his hand and started drawing runes on Erica and Boyd spoke up. 

“What about Ivy? Should she be runed?”

Stiles cleared his throat and paused his motions to answer, not wanting to be distracted. 

“I can give her protection runes, increased stamina and speed in case she has to run. I can power the runes with my magic so that they won’t fail. Most runes draw power from the environment, the elements and sometimes the people who use them, whether or not that person is magical. All living beings have energy that can contribute to magic. For example, that’s why the stupid containment spell is still effective around the building. I think it’s drawing power from Joe or maybe the earth. Hell, these crates might contain magical artifacts that the spell is siphoning from. Magic is a complicated art, that’s why there are so many specializations to study.” 

Stiles stopped babbling and ducked his head, noticing the unflinching attention he was getting from the pack. Instead of looking bored, like most people did when Stiles went into lecture mode, they looked interested. Peter even looked a little awed, fascinated...aroused? Stiles bit his lip, not removing his eyes from Boyd’s skin and the runes he was drawing. 

“Sorry, I get carried away sometimes.”

“Don’t apologize, Stiles. I love seeing you so...passionate.”

Peter’s voice held an exaggerated leer and his voice went two octaves deeper. Stiles rolled his eyes and finished with Boyd’s runes, coming to stand in front of Peter. He raised the brush to start and Peter shook his head. 

“Do Ivy first, just in case our captor comes back and targets her again.”

“Right. Good idea.” 

Ivy enjoyed the attention and marveled at the deep crimson color of the paint. Again, she peppered Stiles with questions about runes and what they were for, how old Stiles was, what his last name was. Peter interjected after he answered that one. 

“Are you related to Sheriff Stilinski? In Beacon Hills?” 

Stiles looked over at him, surprised. 

“Uh, yeah, that’s my dad. Don’t tell me you guys hate each other. Doesn’t really bode well if your in laws hate you, Peter.”

Peter was shocked silent for a moment, mouth open and Erica cackled. 

“Oh, I like him, Peter! We should keep him.”

Peter recovered and he gave Stiles a dark, possessive stare. He licked his lips, fangs poking out as his tongue ran over them and Stiles was glad Ivy was faced away from Peter. That look was definitely not PG and neither was its effect on Stiles. 

“Don’t worry, I plan on it. I’ve met the sheriff a few times as enforcer of the Hale Pack. He seems like a good man, level headed. I was just surprised at the connection, that we never crossed paths before. If we are planning a wedding, I should know my future spouse better. Tell me about yourself, Stiles.”

Stiles finished the runes on Ivy and took a minute to activate them, making sure that the runes drew from his magical core. The connection to his magic would make the runes more stable, better able to protect the child. The crimson paint glowed, becoming a part of Ivy’s body, tattoo-like. Only Stiles or another advanced rune master would be able to remove them. He never set his runes to respond only to his magic, it was too dangerous. 

Stiles eyed the anti-tampering runes on the batteries attached to the pack and wished fervently that other people were so thoughtful. He hated that the others were still being pumped with electrical current to keep them passive, weak. They hid it well but it had to be painful. Done with Ivy, Stiles moved back over to Peter and began drawing. 

“There’s not too much to tell about me. Never went to college, apprenticed to a rune master right out of high school. I tried studying offensive magic but I never had the talent for it. Lydia, my business partner and best friend slash roommate, is a medium and a banshee. She also buys and sells occult books. We co own a shop in Beacon Hills and we do pretty well for ourselves. It’s not a glamorous life but...I love it.” 

Peter hummed and Stiles felt the vibration under the hand he was using to stretch Peter’s skin taut. Peter was warm under his hand and he smelled like dirt and sweat. It went straight to Stiles’ head being this close, touching. 

“It’s admirable, being a small business owner. How did you get into necromancy?”

“A book. I was doing a house call with my mentor one day. My mentor also dealt with curses and we were there to break a curse on an ancient text of something or other. This client had a huge private library and I went poking around. Found a book on death rituals and became fascinated. Most necromancers are self taught and so am I. I’m...insatiable when it comes to knowledge so it wasn’t long before I was reaching for the more obscure stuff. Some would say the darker stuff but it’s only ever been scholarly for me. Advanced necromancy is pretty hardcore; blood sacrifices, week long rituals, hour long chants in obscure languages. I’m not even convinced it, like, works.”

“We share that, the insatiable need for knowledge. For me, it’s knowledge of other people; their motivations, how they think, how they can be manipulated.”

Stiles laughed and looked up at Peter. The top of his head reached Peter’s chin and they were close enough that Stiles could see that Peter’s eyes contained small flecks of a lighter blue in them. Peter’s eyes seemed to dance with his amusement. Gods, he could stare at Peter all fucking day. How cheesy was that? 

“I’m sure that comes in handy as an alpha, being able to read other people.”

“It comes in handy as a lover as well. I-”

Erica interrupted loudly. 

“Ok, ok! A child is present! Save it for when we get out of here you two.” 

***

Stiles stepped back after he completed drawing the last rune on Peter’s skin. He had covered every inch and the crimson paint shimmered in the weak lighting. Stiles hummed appreciatively, enjoying the hint of muscle under Peter’s skin. Peter wasn’t ripped, only the hint if a six pack was present, but the power he exuded was more intoxicating than anything Stiles had been in the presence of. 

Peter was a man, an alpha, that didn’t scream his power to the world, he whispered. A dark, encroaching insinuation that he should be feared. It was intoxicating and after having laid his hands all over Peter’s body, Stiles felt like his blood was boiling in his veins, a contact high. What would it be like to soak in Peter’s powerful existence everyday? Stiles burned to find out. 

“Ok, I’m done. All I need to do is activate the runes with a chanting spell. Peter’s runes will activate Boyd and Erica’s runes and feed energy into Peter. My magic can sustain Boyd, Erica and Ivy but I don’t know for how long. I’ve never pushed myself like this.”

Stiles grimaced apologetically and wished he could be more helpful. It was his own damn fault that this pack was in danger and he wanted to have all the answers. To reassure them of his own abilities. The pack trusted him completely, following his every lead. Not that they had much choice. 

Stiles glanced around the warehouse, taking in the cluttered crates stacked haphazardly around them, creating a maze of dust and wood boxes. The few windows in the building were high up and grimy. A pinkish light was beginning to build behind the black covered panes, the beginnings of dawn. The single light in their little clearing had finally stopped swinging, casting deep shadows no more. It brought each werewolves' face into stark relief. They were dirty, exhausted, gaunt but not broken. They had faith in Stiles’ plan and in their own strength. Strength of will and strength of pack. 

Stiles’ brief musings were cut off by the familiar banging of the door opening and the arrival of Joe. Stiles internally panicked as Joe made his way down the metal steps, his boots thudding loudly. Shit, shit. He didn’t have time to start the chant and he couldn’t afford to give Joe any amount of time. Stiles would not allow Joe to terrorize his pack even one second more. There was only one choice left to Stiles. 

Stiles could see Joe weaving in and out of the crates, coming ever closer. He was taking his time, whistling, and seemed oblivious to any subterfuge. Stiles grabbed Ivy, pushing her down behind the altar, out of sight. 

“Stay here, sweetie, until the bad man is gone, ok?”

He lunged over the table and snatched up the jeweled dagger. He turned to Peter, out of breath and whispered frantically.

“I can kick start the runes with a blood offering, I don’t have time to cast the commencement chant. But it will make the runes much more unstable. Peter...it’s much more likely that you will be affected.”

“How will I be affected?”

Stiles’ voice rose in pitch, his heart beating out of his chest. He ran the dagger vertically up his arm, drawing a dark red line of blood. He dropped the dagger carelessly on the floor and brought his other hand to paint his palm with the blood. He raised it to hover over Peter’s panting chest, waiting for permission. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know. I’m sorry! But I’ll be here, no matter what happens. I promise.” 

Peter barely hesitated before pressing his chest into Stiles’ bloody hand. 

“Do it, I trust you.”

Stiles let out a ragged breath and dragged his wet hand over every inch of Peter’s body he could, covering the runes with his blood. They started to glow, oscillating in color between red and black. The air around them started to crackle with static as his magic flared to life and Stiles smelled his own magical signature, old books and rosemary.   
Peter breathed deep, seeming to relish the scent and Stiles watched as Peter’s eyes dilated fully, the black crowding out the blue. He glanced to the side and saw that the runes on Boyd and Erica were flaring to life as well, casting a red halo around both of them. They writhed and groaned but didn’t seem to be in true agony. Peter started straining against his restraints managing to break the one on his left wrist. Stiles laughed a bit hysterically. 

“Yes! Peter, keep going!”

“What have you done, you bitch!”

Stiles let out a breathless grunt as he was grabbed from behind and thrown to the ground, his head bouncing on the hard cement. Joe’s eyes blazed with fury and he started lauding vicious kicks to Stiles’ chest and face. Stiles’ head was ringing and his vision blurred, blackness encroaching. He weakly brought his arms up to cover his face and curled inward against the assault. 

“You fucking abomination! I’ll kill you for this, filth!”

The fuzz cleared, he heard a loud roar and a huge shadowy figure rose to loom behind Joe. The large shadow grabbed Joe by the throat and flung him away like a ragdoll. Joe crashed into a stack of nearby crates and they exploded around him. He landed in a broken pile, pieces of wood and packing materials covered his writhing form. He groaned, looking disoriented. 

Stiles turned his attention back to the large figure before him. It was Peter, looking monstrous, clothes hanging in useless rags. His eyes blazed a furious red, brighter than Stiles had ever seen alpha eyes. His partial shift was perverted, a grotesque melding of man and wolf. He was covered in black hair, his limbs too long and his hands too big, ending in sharp serrated claws. His legs were bent at odd angles and his huge feet ended in the same edged claws. His face held most of his same features but they were warped with animalistic nuances. His mouth hung open, exposing a mouth full of sharp teeth and beastly fangs. 

Peter inclined his head to the side, taking in Stiles as he shakily made his way to stand. Peter stood seven feet tall and Stiles cranked his neck back to meet his eyes. The runes were still glowing faintly through the hair on his body and Stiles started to feel a strain on his magic. He took a steadying breath, reaching his hands up to cup either side of Peter’s changed face. Stiles was encouraged when instead of ripping off his arms, Peter leaned gently into his touch. The red of his eyes dimmed slightly and his body language softened. 

“Peter? You still in there?”

Peter grunted and closed his mouth, rolling his tongue around as if he was tasting his words. 

“I’m here. Too much…”

He trailed off, looking lost for words. Stiles caressed his face. 

“I know, Peter. It’s overwhelming but I need you to concentrate and do what I say, ok?”

Peter shook off his unease and gave Stiles his full attention. 

“Tell me.”

“I need you to destroy the batteries so that I can get Boyd and Erica loose from their restraints. Then I need you to go to that door and throw all your strength against it until the spell breaks down. Got it?”

Peter nodded, never wavering his gaze from Stiles’ eyes. Stiles heard Joe groan again start to stand. Peter whipped his head around to glare at Joe and a deep rumbling growl started in his chest. Stiles placed his hands on his shoulders and shook Peter to get his attention again. 

“Peter, listen to me! I don’t have the power to sustain the runes much longer and I need you! Ignore Joe, ok. I’ll take care of the bastard.” 

Peter grunted, not happy, but luckily he still trusted Stiles. He turned and picked up the batteries attached to Boyd and Erica and crushed them into tiny pieces, nullifying the anti-tampering runes on them. Stiles made sure that Peter ignored Joe, lumbering gracefully over to the door nearest them and began bashing himself against it, roaring. The door instantly exploded outward but an invisible shield prevented him from going through the doorway. 

Stiles watched Joe waver on his knees and begin to haul himself to his feet. Stiles cursed and ran back to Boyd and Erica, picking up the bloody dagger and began sawing through the leather bindings holding them to the chain link fence. They both dropped to the ground, weak and breathless. The runes were still glowing and Stiles knew they would be useless, tapped of energy, until Stiles’ magic ran out. Stiles stumbled, woozy as his magic continued to drain. He removed his shirt and tried his best to tie it around his freely bleeding arm, making a pathetic attempt to stem the flow. 

“You two ok? We need to-”

Joe was behind him again, yelling in rage. His arms, like two bands of hot steel, squeezed Stiles’ middle, digging into his diaphragm and making him gasp and choke for air. He bucked against the hold, making Joe lose his footing and they crashed to the ground, Joe on top of him. The dagger was knocked from Stiles’ hand and it skittered across the floor, leaving a line of tacky blood in its wake. He thrashed under Joe’s heavy weight, trying to free his good arm to reach for the only weapon in sight. It was a few inches too far and Stiles brought his elbow back, landing a blow to Joe’s face and hearing a nasty crunch. 

“You god damn menace! Come here!”

“Fuck you!” 

He tried to hit Joe again but his arm was easily stopped and pinned. Joe wrenched Stiles’ head back by a rough hand in his hair and bashed his face against the floor. His already sore head started to ring again and he groaned, miserable. He couldn’t give up though. 

He could still hear Peter throwing all he had against the invisible magical barrier. Ivy had come out of her hiding place to hide behind her parents as they looked on, helpless as Stiles struggled against a much stronger opponent. The look of despair in Erica’s eyes gave him a second wind. He couldn’t lose against this piece of shit and leave the pack defenseless. It was Stiles who had rendered them weak for his plan and it was Stiles who would protect them. 

He flailed enough that Joe had to release the hold he had on his hair to better control him and Stiles brought his head back, ramming into Joe’s already broken nose. Joe yelled in agony and loosened his grip reflexively. Stiles had enough room to scoot forward those few inches and took hold of the dagger. 

Joe was sitting on his haunches, shaking his head and trying to clear his vision as Stiles flipped over under him and brought the dagger into a wide arc, slicing his neck open in a grisly facsimile of a smile. The dagger sliced through Joe’s throat easily as if Stiles were cutting paper and not flesh and blood flowed torrentially from the open wound, coming to fall hot and viscous over Stiles’ bare chest. Stiles grimaced and gagged at the overwhelming smell of fresh blood and shoved Joe back. Joe fell heavy and limp on his back, his face forever an expression of shock and fear and moved no more. 

Stiles crawled over to Boyd, Erica and Ivy and collapsed beside them, facing Peter as he charged at the barrier. Erica had a hand over Ivy’s eyes and no one said a word to Stiles as they watched Peter work. 

“The barrier is getting weaker, he’ll be through soon. Hey.”

Two tired pairs of eyes turned to him and he raised himself to one elbow to address them. 

“My magic is almost tapped out. I don’t know what state of mind Peter will be in, he looks pretty wild. When he breaks through, get out. I’ll distract Peter if I have to. Go to the den, rest, recuperate, it’s gonna be ok.”

Erica reached out the hand not covering Ivy’s eyes and cupped his face. 

“He might hurt you. We should stay, he might recognize pack.” 

Stiles shook his head and brought a hand up to take her wrist. 

“No, not with Ivy here. You need to get her out of here and stay together. No more separating, ok? I may not have my full powers but maybe I can distract him long enough to wear him out. Trust me. I told Peter I wouldn’t leave him no matter how he reacted to the rush of runic power and I won’t. He would want you to go, to be safe.” 

Erica bit her lip and shared a measured look with Boyd. They both nodded and Erica hugged Ivy close, settling into Boyd’s side for a moment. It wasn’t much longer before Peter was successful. 

The barrier shattered in a violent display, flinging Peter far back and away, knocking over crates and Peter landed in a bulky, black lump. Stiles felt his magical fizzle out and the runes covering the three next to him dimmed and then extinguished. He shoved at them gently, urging them to leave. They did, reluctantly, Erica pausing only to give him a fierce look. 

“I better see the both of you back at the den, Stiles. Safe and sound.”

Stiles gave a weak smile and nodded, watching their three figures dart out of the doorway and disappear into the moody dawn light. He twisted his head to check on Peter and saw that he was stirring, still fully in his jacked up shift, hulking and more animal than man. Shit, would the residual influence of Stiles’ magic wear off soon? 

Peter rose swiftly to his feet, red eyes trained on the door that led to escape, oblivious to the dead body and Stiles. Peter began gracefully loping across the warehouse for the open door and Stiles struggled to his feet. The tacky, dried blood pulled at his skin as he shifted and all he could smell was musky copper. He couldn’t let Peter loose like this. He would be seen and be hurt or, in his addled mental state, he would hurt someone else. 

“Peter stop! Don’t leave, it’s not safe!”

Stiles picked up a piece of debris near his feet and threw it at Peter, hitting him squarely between the shoulder blades. Peter halted and rounded, staring at Stiles with a deep fury. He postured aggressively, pumping out his chest and raising to his full height. He began stalking forward, eating up the ground between them too quickly. 

“Shit, fuck, Peter...uh, Alpha! Wait a minute, let’s talk about this!”

Peter didn’t hesitate and Stiles did the only thing he could, he ran. His bare feet stuck to the bloody floor and he almost fell, tripping over Joe’s lifeless body, scraping his bare chest against rough wood. He caught himself on a stack of crates and launched into the maze, weaving in and out. 

An enraged roar sounded behind him, rattling his bones and he risked a backward glance. Peter was pursuing, crashing through wooden crates, easily toppling them from his path. Stiles ducked and weaved and Peter followed in a destructive straight path. Stiles would never outrun him but maybe he could keep his attention long enough for some sense to return. 

Stiles turned a corner and was dismayed to see the wall of the warehouse in front of him and the metal staircase that led to who the hell knows where. He made to turn right and make his way up but Peter was there, suddenly, silently and he let out a started yelp, flailing away and turning to continue fleeing. He felt sharp, grasping claws swipe for him, grazing his back in a whisper of touch, sending a shiver through him. 

He could feel Peter at his back, his looming shadow engulfing him. He followed the wall for a bit, waiting for an opening between the crates. Suddenly, Peter’s presence behind him disappeared and Stiles stopped running, turning in confusion and a rising hope. Was Peter coming to his senses? He was practically feral, chasing after Stiles, growling and spitting. 

Peter stood completely still, his head tilted up and he nostrils flared, as if he were scenting the air. His face was less animal, the ridges on his cheeks and forehead less pronounced, his mouth able to close around his teeth. Stiles was comforted to see the change. Peter tilted his head back down, still too damn tall, his red eyes took in Stiles’ terrified form and they held an awareness in them, a cunning calculation. His mouth quirked up into a familiar smirk and Stiles let out a breathy laugh. 

“Peter? Please tell me you recognize me, man.”

Peter flexed his hands, claws glinting in the rising sunlight and ran a tongue over one fang, making a tsking noise, as if considering the question. Stiles swallowed nervously and shifted his weight on his feet, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. 

Peter was still acting odd, too predatory, for Stiles to relax. Peter’s muscles rippled as he shifted, rolled his shoulders and shifted forward, placing a too large hand on the ground as if at a starting line to a race. His other hand reached toward Stiles and a deep rumbling growl started in his chest. The growl wrapped around the words he spoke. 

“Baby...boy...you better...run.”

Stiles gasped and reeled back on his heels, too shocked to respond at first. Peter’s rumbling growl cut off as he laughed deep and his tongue lolled out of his mouth, a canine smile.

“Run, run as fast as you can…”

He stood there, struck dumb for a few moments. Was Peter fucking with him or flirting with him? His shock caused Peter to chuckle again and Stiles snapped out of his fugue. 

“You think you’re so fucking funny, huh? You scared the shit out of me, asshole!”

“Had to fight, wanted to kill...now, I wanna fuck.”

Stiles flailed, choking on his own spit. The more Peter spoke, the more human he seemed, coming back into his own mind slowly. It was like Peter had stepped out of his deepest fantasy, the one he dreamed up on cold, lonely nights. A sexy, faceless lover, chasing him through a meadow or dark forest, catching him, kissing him and throwing him down on the soft ground to ravish him. Was that what Peter was offering him? A sultry game? Stiles gathered himself. Fuck it. 

“You gonna chase me, Daddy? Gonna catch me? Then what?”

Peter arched his back and coiled his muscles, obviously ready to pounce.

“I’m going to taste you, baby. Make you scream for me.”

Peter’s voice was more human and his body was growing slowly smaller as Stiles looked on. Stiles felt hot arousal pool in his abdomen, his blood rushing to his face and his cock, blushing and hard. Peter’s nostrils flared again and he let out a dark, pleased sound. Stiles wasted no more time, turning and sprinting away. 

After a moment’s head start, he heard Peter’s claws scraping on the cement as he shot into motion. The chase didn’t last too long, Stiles was too exhausted, magically and physically, to be much of a challenge. Peter toyed with him, letting him run ahead and circling around to cut him off, corral Stiles to where Peter wanted him, reaching for him too late on purpose to spike Stiles’ adrenaline and make him laugh and shout. It was harder than Stiles thought, trying to run with an aching erection but Stiles tried his best to give Peter a fun chase. 

Eventually, Stiles was forced into the middle of the building, the clearing with the chain link fence and the altar. He vaulted the table, intending to run through to the other side but Peter was behind him, clearly ready to end the game and take his prize. Peter sped up, passed Stiles easily and turned to face him, catching Stiles when they collided, Stiles unable to stop his momentum. He snatched Stiles up into his strong arms, holding them tightly together, chests touching and laughed, pressing his face into Stiles throat, nuzzling and running his bristled chin against the sensitive skin. 

Stiles squirmed, trying to break away from the rough treatment, laughing. His feet barely touched the ground and he lifted them, wrapping his legs around Peter’s waist and looping his arms around his shoulders. He tangled his fingers in Peter’s hair and pulled hard, tilting his head back for a kiss. Peter’s affronted growl turned in to pleased purr as their lips crashed together, harsh and perfect. 

Stiles felt Peter’s fang slice over his bottom lip and the taste of blood mingled with the addictive taste of Peter’s mouth. Peter let out a wounded sound and his hands dug into Stiles’ ass, claws rending tears in the material of his pants. Stiles moaned and wantonly ground his hips into Peter’s large erection he felt nestled between their bodies. He broke away from Peter’s lips, writhing against him. 

“Come on, Daddy. You caught me fair and square. Is it only my mouth you wanted to taste?”

Peter grinned and pivoted, depositing Stiles on the altar, on his back. He clutched and pouted, making displeased noises when Peter started disengaging his limbs, backing up. 

“No, no, Daddy, don’t leave.” 

“Shhh, baby. Let me get you naked so I can taste you everywhere.”

Stiles moaned his agreement and shimmied his hips to help Peter as he removed them. Stiles closed his eyes and enjoyed the soft kisses and nips Peter gave his chest as his pants were pushed down his hips. Peter froze above him, still as stone, and Stiles snapped his eyes open, confused. 

Stiles had forgotten he wore his lucky purple lace panties and he shifted nervously as Peter gazed at him, blank faced. Feeling too exposed, Stiles laughed nervously and started trying to tug his pants back up but Peter didn’t let him, catching his wrists in completely human hands. The lack of claws surprised Stiles and he realized that Peter was back to his normal partial shift and mostly human, eyes blue. 

“Do you not... um...like them?”

His voice seemed to snap Peter from his daze and he smirked, eyes flashing red. He released Stiles wrists and tugged his pants the rest of the way off. 

“Oh baby, you are so perfect. Such a pretty baby I have. You’re just begging to be eaten up by Daddy, aren’t you?”

Peter gave sucking kisses starting at Stiles’ ankles and working his way up. He pinned Stiles to the altar as he squirmed under the attention, crying out. Peter reached his groin, his hard cock straining under the lace. He glanced down as Peter buried his face in the crease where Stiles’ hips met his leg, huffing hot breaths and rubbing the sharp hair of his chin over Stiles balls. Stiles jumped at the sensation and bit his fist, holding in his cries. Peter glanced up, eyes blue again, and tsked. Stiles watched Peter’s hard, leaking cock bob as Peter reached up to move Stiles’ hands. 

“No repressing your sounds, baby. I wanna hear everything. I’m gonna make you scream, remember?” 

Stiles whimpered but nodded, moving his hands to wrap in his own hair, grounding himself. Peter gave him a toothy smile, his eyes crinkling. 

“Good boy. Now turn over so I can see how good your ass looks in these panties.”

Stiles moaned and hurried to comply, shifting his weight to roll over and bringing his hands and knees under him. Peter groaned behind him and brought both hands to cup and knead Stiles’ ass. 

“Oh, baby, you look so delicious. Can Daddy eat you up?”

Peter gave a sharp smack to his left ass cheek, the loud noise of the action more startling than the feel. Stiles gasped and arched his back, arms giving out and his shoulders dug in the cold marble of the altar. He raised his ass into Peter’s hands, desperate for more. 

“Oh, you like that, baby? We’ll have to revisit that later. Right now I want to eat out your pretty little hole. Can I do that?” 

“Gods, Peter, Daddy, please!”

Peter darkly chuckled. 

“You’re already a mess and I’ve barely done anything to you. So sexy, good boy.”

Stiles felt the scrape of the lace as Peter moved his panties to one side, exposing his hole. Stiles felt a moment’s embarrassment at being so exposed but was quickly soothed. Peter shushed him, running warm hands up and down his back. Peter hooked his thumbs, one on each side, and spread Stiles. Peter leaned in close and pressed dry kisses, his hot breath raised goosebumps on Stiles skin. He keened as Peter continued to tease him. 

“Please, Daddy. Don’t tease, I need you.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll have me. But you’re right, baby, I’m impatient too.”

With that, Peter took Stiles balls into his mouth, one at a time, suckling gently. Stiles grunted and reached out to grasp the edges of the stone under him, clutching. Peter moved quickly to lick a hot stripe from Stiles’ balls to his hole, his hot, wet tongue laving over the entrance. 

Stiles’ eyes rolled into the back of his head as the tender nerves were stimulated and he grasped the stone under his hands even tighter, feeling overheated and dizzy. He was so hard that the slightest touch to his aching cock would set him off. Peter concentrated on eating him out and holding his hips still, the only movement he allowed Stiles was to arch his back, his body begging for more. 

“Daddy, Daddy please, more, more.”

Stiles was barely aware of his words but kept up a litany of begging moans. Peter hummed against his rim and his tongue delved deeper. Thick blunt fingers followed, one at a time and not fast enough for Stiles but he was too overloaded with pleasure to complain. 

Finally, finally, Peter crooked his fingers just right to hit his prostate and set his other hand to Stiles’ cock, aided by how much Stiles had leaked during his sensual torture. Peter’s hand glided fast and Stiles felt his orgasm hit him, hard, making him cry out loudly and writhe under Peter, pulling his fingers deeper and thrusting into his palm faster.   
He shook in the aftermath, collapsing forward. Peter laughed softly and urged Stiles to turn onto his back and Stiles followed, letting his legs splay open, spent cock poking out from the side of his panties. Stiles worked on catching his breath, loose limbed and warm all over.

Peter rose to crouch over his hips, knees on either side and his long, thick cock in his own fist. Peter pumped his cock lazily, eyes half lidded as he ran his scorching gaze over Stiles exhausted form. Stiles reached for him and pouted when Peter gently knocked his hand away. 

“Just lay there, baby. You look so good like this. Well pleasured, legs open, waiting for me. So good.”

Peter ran a hand over the dried blood on Stiles chest, his lip curling and he growled. 

“I saw what you did to that idiot. Slit his fucking throat, didn’t you, baby. I wish I could have seen it, I bet you were so glorious. Mhmmm. Yeah, my fierce baby. But you smell like him, you need to smell like me.”

Peter’s hand sped up, pumping his cock with a too rough hand but he seemed to enjoy it. Stiles watched his hips thrust forward in a sensual circle, his other hand rolling his balls and squeezing. Peter looked amazing like this, taking his pleasure, gazing at Stiles possessively. Stiles rolled his hips and arched his back, preening under the attention, trying to urge Peter to orgasm since he couldn’t touch. He dragged his hands over his own body, pinching his nipples and gasped, biting his lip. 

“Please, Daddy, come on me. Make me yours, wanna smell like you always.”

Peter gave a choking grunt, looking surprised at Stiles actions and came. His eyes slammed shut and he lurched forward, shoulders hunching, panting harshly. Stiles felt triumphant as Peter’s hot release splashed over his chest and abdomen, Peter hips moving against his as he continued to thrust weakly. 

Finally, Peter stilled and opened his eyes, gaze gleaming as he dragged his fingers through the come on Stiles’ body, rubbing it in. Stiles huffed a laugh at the action and wrinkled his nose. 

“Blood and come don’t smell that great together.”

Peter grinned, completely human, and kissed Stiles softly, tenderly. Stiles hummed, pleased and brought his hand up to ran his fingers over Peter’s face. 

“How do you feel?”

Peter gave him a disgruntled look. 

“I feel wonderful. I should be asking you that question.”

Stiles blew out a loud breath and shrugged, running his hands over Peter’s shoulders and down his back. 

“I feel tired, hungry...sated.”

Peter smiled that tender smile and reached out to grasp onto Stiles’ elbows, raising him up to sit. Peter stood beside the altar, between Stiles’ legs, and bit his lip, tucking Stiles’ cock back into his lace underwear. Peter looked up at Stiles from under his lashes. 

“Come home with me. I promise you’ll be spoiled endlessly while you recover. And...beyond, if you wish it.”

Stiles grinned and ran his hand through Peter’s hair, watching him close his eyes and lean into the touch. 

“Don’t worry, Daddy. I plan on keeping you around for a long time.”

***

Stiles admired herself in the full length mirror, swishing back and forth, reveling in the feeling of the soft silk dress caressing her legs. It was a dress that Peter had given her, a dark, sinful blue color that shone brightly under the light. It hugged her in all the right places and made her feel beautiful, just like Peter. Stiles had gone all out in anticipation of their first real date. Full makeup, long hair styled impeccably, heels, matching panties…

It had been three weeks since their fateful meeting and Stiles had never been happier. She had only been missing for one night and no one had noticed. Boyd had stomped in not long after Stiles had redressed and thrown a blanket at each of them, grunting that their ride had arrived and to hurry up. Boyd had grimaced as they passed him, making their way to a black pickup truck, and made sly jokes about what they had been up to the whole way to the pack’s den. Erica and Ivy greeted them with excitement and a full breakfast. 

Before giving into exhaustion, Stiles had used Peter’s phone to contact a very shocked Lydia and she had driven over immediately with Allison to meet the pack and be regaled with only slightly exaggerated tales of Stiles’ genius escape. Lydia and Allison seemed to fit right in with the pack and Peter had been making sly comments the past few weeks about them joining the pack along with Stiles. 

Stiles came back to the present at a knock on her door and Lydia poked her head in, smirking.

“Your hot date has arrived. Should I send him up?”

“Nah, I’m ready.” 

She followed Lydia out into the main room and Peter turned from the counter where he had been deep in discussion with Allison. Peter gave Stiles a feral grin and his eyes flashed red as he ran his gaze from head to toe.

“Oh, baby girl. How lovely you look.”

Stiles bit her lip and laughed softly as she leaned into Peter’s chest and gave him a soft kiss then leaned back and fluttered her eyelashes. 

“Thank you, Daddy. Where are we going tonight?”

Lydia gave a mock disgusted sound and pulled Allison into her bedroom. 

“See you lovebirds later.”

Peter hummed and reached into the jacket pocket of his suit, pulling out a package. 

“It’s a surprise but first, I got you something.”

Stiles grinned and reached for it, ripping the wrapping open enthusiastically. It was a jewelry box and she reverently opened the lid, revealing a gorgeous sapphire necklace. 

“Oh, Peter, people are gonna start thinking you’re my sugar daddy if you keep spoiling me like this.”

Peter chuckled and removed the necklace from Stiles’ hands, coming to stand behind her and fastened it around her neck as she held her long hair up. He dipped his head and nuzzled into Stiles’ neck, his hot breath making her shiver.

“Would that be so bad, baby girl? Your Daddy taking care of you?”

“Not at all.”

Stiles turned and pressed herself against Peter, reveling in the strong arms that held her. They stood there a moment, kissing and embracing one another until Peter took her hand and led her from the apartment and out into the cool night air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I teared up writing and then re reading this. I just want them to be happy!

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr, come chat](https://havok2cat.tumblr.com)


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